


Genius Loci

by keerawa



Category: BBC Sherlock
Genre: Community: watsons_woes, Gen, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 02:11:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1964982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keerawa/pseuds/keerawa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Consider it a tribute," Anthea said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Genius Loci

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://watsons-woes.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://watsons-woes.livejournal.com/)**watsons_woes** JWP Prompt #15: Cracktastic. Set post-season 2, with all that post-Reichenbach implies. Unbeta'd.

It had been nine months. Nine months of painful silence, Baker Street empty and quiet like it had never been whilst Sherlock was alive. John was functioning. He went to work, he ate, he tried to sleep at night, then he got up and did it all again.

He'd thought about getting a place of his own. Had looked through the paper, checked the listings online, and even made an appointment to go look at a flat this morning. Of course, he'd not been able to make it out of bed before noon, so perhaps he needed a bit more time.

He was fine, though. Perfectly healthy. People grieved in their own way, in their own time, and anyone who tried to tell him otherwise could go fuck themselves.

John fumbled with the key to 221 Baker Street when he got back after his hours at the surgery. He looked at the flight of stairs, trying to drum up the energy to lift his feet and make it up there, all seventeen steps. It seemed an impossible task.

Then John noticed that the door to 221B was ajar. He never left it unlocked, and neither did Mrs Hudson. Was it a journalist who had broken in? Some souvenir hunting fan? John rushed up the steps and slammed open the door to find Anthea sitting on the couch with a shiny new iPad.

"New Scotland Yard is struggling to solve cases with their former efficiency," she said. "And Mr Holmes is of a mind to offer his assistance. Of course, given his responsibilities, it would need to be by remote. Consider it … a tribute." She offered the device to him.

The next day, John found himself at a murder scene. He lifted and turned the iPad to survey the room and zoom in on particular targets, reading Mycroft's questions and demands out loud to Lestrade's team as they appeared on the screen, with a spiraling sense of déjà vu. The case was solved in under twelve minutes.

"'That was far too easy, Lestrade,'" John read off the screen after the culprit had been revealed. His voice failed as he tried to finish the sentence. 'Barely a three,' the screen said, as it dropped from John's shaking hands.

Could it be? The hope was sharp, wedged in John's throat, choking him. If this was some mind-fuck by Mycroft, John was going to murder him. He got into a cab and gave the address for the Diogenes Club, watching the CCTV cameras turning to track his progress across the city.

His mobile chimed a text alert.

_John._

He ignored it.

_John, don't._

Mycroft's club was silent, but it was a live, humming silence, full of men who glared at John as he stomped by them. Two burly servitors with suspicious bulges in their suit jackets let him through to Mycroft's office.

"Mycroft!" John snarled as he opened the door. "What the hell do you think you're playing -"

Mycroft's mahogany desk was empty, except for a tall glass canister in which was suspended a human brain in an aqueous solution. There were wires, and read-outs…

John stumbled to one of the chairs in front of the desk, a tiny camera by the door whirring to follow him. John sat down, heavily, and closed his eyes. He was dreaming. That's what this was. A dream. That was the only possible explanation.

John's phone chimed. With a nightmarish sense of inevitability John's eyes opened and focused on the screen.

_I always did prefer to text._  
 _SH_


End file.
